


Hallelujah

by urwasted



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Praise Kink, Unrequited Love, i forgot that one, i mean not if u dont want it to be :), no beta we die like men, sorta?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28211202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urwasted/pseuds/urwasted
Summary: George is drunk.Every breath, we drew was Hallelujah.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 180
Collections: DreamTeam





	Hallelujah

George is drunk.

Honestly, he’s not sure that he’s ever been this drunk in his life, and even if he had, he wouldn’t be able to remember. Hell, he probably wasn’t going to remember this in the morning either.

Normally, there wouldn’t be a reason for such excessive day drinking (turned night drinking), but post-recording, George’s brain and gone haywire, so sick of everything it felt necessary. 

His phone’s been stuck playing the same song on repeat, he’s not sure how it happened or how long it’s been going, but the verses of Jeff Buckley’s _Hallelujah_ eventually blur together into one long melodramatic, static whine in the back of his head. At some point he’d migrated from his desk to the bed, the half empty bottle of vodka rolled out of his grip onto the sheets.

 _Why does it always end up like this?_ Curled into himself, head spinning with thoughts of him, always him. It’s always Dream when he gets like this, always something he’s said to set him off into the void of his own brain. He’s tried everything; coding, baking, he’d even tried meditating in the beginning, But it always ends up like this.

Piss drunk and hard as steel in his boxers.

The first time it happened, he’d tried to pretend he was thinking of some faceless, big tits and smooth cunt pornstar while humping hard against the sheets. That was, until he found it was so much better to come with his own fingers crooked inside. Then it was Dream’s voice. Too difficult to imagine the soft, wet heat of a girl around him when all he could hear was Dream’s voice rattling around in his skull, echoing off of every thought he’d tried to keep buried.

Then it started to happen more often, more money spent on booze, more time spent alone in his bed, shadowed in the darkness of his room, fucking himself down on fingers he wished were just a little bit bigger, a little more _rough._

_Every breath, we drew was Hallelujah._

_Good boy, George._

God what he would give to hear it, for real, not just in the quiet hush of his own lust-drunk mind.

It’s a fight with himself, every time, when he starts, but always, Dream chimes in, _Come on George, for me?_ And he’s reaching into his bedside drawer to find the half-used bottle of lube he keeps tucked in the back. From there it’s easy; to buck up into the curl of his own fingers around his cock, down behind his balls, to press against himself coated in too much slick, cold and wet and _good._

_Go on, be good for me._

He starts with two fingers, imagining Dream would feel just as big with only one, enough to ache and stretch just a little. He feels like a bitch in heat, one hand around his dick and the other buried inside himself, bucking down, unable to differentiate which way he should move. He gets himself off the way he thinks Dream would, bombarding himself with so much sensation his nerve endings spark.

With the lights off, he can picture Dream above him, hands in his hair, holding him down, around his throat, whispering a litany of praise.

_Mine, George. All mine._

_Hallelujah._

It doesn’t take long for George to get close, minutes maybe, as drunk as he is, but he holds back. Dream would want him to last. He imagines the ring of Dream’s fingers tight against the base of his dick, he can’t come, he’s not allowed to yet. He needs to be good.

He takes the hand off his dick to grasp at his own hair, slipping in a third finger alongside the others, a gasp falling out from his open mouth at the feeling. It’s good, but it’s not enough, not right, not _Dream._ He keeps going anyway, takes four fingers too early just to make it feel real.

He fumbles around until his fingers come in contact with the discarded bottle of lube, haphazardly drips more onto the fingers buried knuckle deep inside himself. He’s moving too much now, bucking down to meet his own hand, rocking the bed frame against his wall. His bedroom is a cacophony of sounds: his own whimpers, the wet sound every time he thrusts in again, the bottle of vodka rolling from the bed to smash on the floor. It’s quiet in his head though, Dream’s voice, pitched low, right beside his ear.

_You’ve been good haven’t you?_

“Yes--yesyesyes, _Dream--”_ He has to touch himself again, cock aching and flushed red at the tip. He’s a mess, stomach smeared with precum, dripping lube onto the blankets below him, desperate for it.

_You can be a good boy for me, right, George?_

“Please.”

_Then come for me._

And he does. George comes with a cry, spilling all over his hand and chest, fingers curled just the right way that he almost whites out. Maybe he does, because when he can finally open his eyes again, come has started to cool and dry against his skin, itchy and uncomfortable. His throat gives a pitiful keen when he withdraws his fingers, leaving him empty and clenching around nothing.

He doesn’t even bother to turn on the lights, just reaches over the side of his bed to find his discarded shirt, lazily wiping off his stomach and the lube that’s started to leak out of him.

He should change the sheets, brush his teeth, hell at least deal with the mess of glass and vodka on his floor, but George can’t find the energy to do more than pull the soiled blankets over himself to stop from shivering.

_It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah._

Fuck.

**Author's Note:**

> havent posted fic in over a year and we coming back in style with some good old rpf. very classy.


End file.
